“Well, and whose fault is that? It is the fault of the women. We demand our rights in the States, and get them. If this creature at Seoul had been of any use in the world she would have revolutionized the status of women,—at least within the bounds of her own kingdom.”
I ventured to remark that Oriental ideas of women were of a low order, and that, as the women themselves were educated to accept this state of things, nothing much should be expected of them.
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Miss Hemster strenuously; “look at the Empress of China. She makes people stand around. Then there was Catherine of Russia, and goodness knows Russia’s far enough behind in its ideas! But Catherine didn’t mind that; she just walked in, and made herself feared by the whole world. A few more women like that in the Orient would bring these heathen people to their senses. It serves this Corean Queen right when you think of the opportunity she had, and the way she misused it, sitting there like a great lump of dough strung around with jewels she could not appreciate, like a wax figure in a ten-cent show. I have no patience with such animals.”
I thought this judgment of Miss Hemster’s rather harsh, but experience had taught me not to be rash in expressing my opinion; so we conversed amicably about many things until the gong rang for luncheon. I must say that hers was a most attractive personality when she exerted herself to please. At luncheon she was the life of the party, making the captain laugh outrageously, and even bringing a smile now and then to her father’s grave face, although it seemed to me he watched her furtively under his shaggy eyebrows now and then as if apprehensive that this mood might not last,—somewhat fearful, I imagine, regarding what might follow. I could not help noticing that there was a subtle change in the old gentleman’s attitude toward his daughter, and I fancied that her exuberant spirits were perhaps forced to the front, to counteract in a measure this new attitude. I thought I detected now and then a false note in her hilarity, but perhaps that may have been a delusion of my imagination, such as it is. After the captain had gone, toward the end of the meal, her father seemed to be endeavouring silently to attract her attention; but she rattled on in almost breathless haste, talking flippantly to Miss Stretton and myself alternately, and never once looking toward the head of the table. I surmised that there was something beneath all this with which I was not acquainted, and that there was going on before me a silent contest of two wills, the latent determination of the father opposed to the unconcealed stubbornness of the daughter. I sympathized with the old man, because I was myself engaged in a mental endeavour to cause Hilda Stretton to look across at me, but hitherto without success. Not a single glance had I received during the meal. At last the old gentleman rose, and stood hesitating, as if he wished to make a plunge; then, finally, he interrupted the rattle of conversation by saying:
“Gertrude, I wish to have a few words with you in my office.”
“All right, Poppa, I’ll be there in a minute,” she replied nonchalantly.
“I want you to come now,” he said, with more sternness in his voice than I had ever heard there before. For one brief moment I feared we were going to have a scene, but Miss Gertrude merely laughed joyously and sprang to her feet, saying, “I’ll race you to the office then,” and disappeared down the passage aft almost before her sentence was ended. Mr. Hemster slowly followed her.
Hilda Stretton half rose, as if to leave me there alone, then sat down again, and courageously looked me full in the face across the table.
“He is too late,” she whispered.
“Too late for what?” I asked.